


The Handprint

by Little_Fanpire



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Gen, Horror, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 10:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Fanpire/pseuds/Little_Fanpire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There in the middle of the road was a young girl. Mary Alice closed her eyes not wanting to believe what was before her. She gasped as a tiny, cold hand clutched onto her forearm. Was it a vision of the future or did it really happen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Handprint

**Author's Note:**

> Disclamier: I do not own Twilight; it owns me. The Twilight Saga characters and things belong to SM. The Handprint belongs to the Little Fanpire. No copyright infringement is intended. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is purely coincidental.
> 
> Orinigally posted on FFnet during the Summer of 2010.  
> Betas: arfalcon and Flibbertigidget

> Do people have premonitions of fearful events which are going to happen in the future? How can we tell how often premonitions like this come true, especially if the people are no longer here to tell us?  
> -Nora Roberts, the Haunted South: Where Ghosts Still Roam

The conductor was a small, frail man with a sharp nose and pointed features. His skin had a deep red tinge to it, burned by the Mississippi sun. His hazel eyes hid under bushy eyebrows that were tipped with grey. At the moment he was checking his pocket watch, observing that it was almost three in the afternoon and waiting for the next shipment to be loaded onto the train. 

The blistering sun beat down on his back and the hot heat blew around the corner, causing the conductor to wipe his sweaty brow. When the train was ready, he signaled the engineer and they were on their way. The steam engine cried out with a shrill whistle and the train began to pick up speed down the track.

Further down from the train station a plump, elderly lady padded up to the yellow school bus and waited for her children to come aboard. She pinned up her brown hair which had begun to frizz in the sweltering heat. She thought to herself that she had never seen such a hot day, even during the recent summer months. 

Slowly, one by one, the children made their way towards the school bus. Happy faces smiled up at the woman and each child took his or her respective seat. The bus driver climbed up the stairs and took a minute to count the heads. All thirty students sat diligently in their seats. The long day and abnormal weather had drained all their energy. Thankfully, they were so few they could each have a seat all to themselves. Sealing the doors closed the bus driver started her route down the Biloxi country road. 

Was there a hint of reluctance in the conductor or the bus driver? Did they have any premonition of what was to come? 

But that would happen in the future. Today, Miss Mary Alice Brandon made her way home from Biloxi Senior High School.

There was nothing unusual about this. Mary Alice Brandon drove home every day, in her navy blue Volkswagen, down the old, country lane. It was faster this way and so peaceful. The fields of grass and fallen trees accompanied her the whole way from the school to her home. 

Rolling down her windows, Mary Alice tried to get some cool, fresh air. It was hot that day, way too hot for a late August afternoon. She glanced in her rearview mirror and checked her reflection. Her short, dark hair had curled into ringlets from the heat and her large green eyes had dark circles under them. The stress of the last few weeks lay heavily on her. 

She had started her final year in high school and was taking many classes that fall. From AP English, Calculus, to European History, Mary Alice knew her schedule would be jam-packed. Aside from her classes her mother had been nagging her to join many extracurricular activities like the drama club and running for class president. She had repeated over and over how important this last year would be for Mary Alice.

Mary Alice rolled her eyes at this. Her mother could be so overbearing at times. She glanced into her rearview mirror, but she could only see the dust from the dirt road. 

Mary Alice drove silently, following the road almost automatically, while her thoughts were on something even more distressing than challenging classes and after school events. For the past few nights she had been having the strangest dreams, dreams that reminded her of déjà vu. When she awoke the dreams seemed so familiar. And on other occasions her dreams had the opposite effect of déjà vu, a more foreboding aspect. 

Suddenly, she felt the wheel twirl beneath her hands as the car hit a deep hole in the road. She glanced once more in her rear and side view mirrors, but this time she caught sight of something about the size of a small child. Slowing down her car, Mary Alice pulled her bug over to the side of the road to check her tire.

Stepping out of the car, she searched for the thing she had seen a moment earlier, but she found nothing; not a car or soul in sight. The tall grass and weeds blew back and forth in the wind, swaying from side to side, and dark green to light. Large grey rain clouds were creeping in from the south and Mary Alice prayed they would stay away until she made it home. She pulled at her blue jeans which were sticking to her legs and fanned out her white t-shirt.

The front right tire had surely blown. Mary Alice cursed to herself and wished she knew how to change a tire. Unfortunately, she did not and so she went to the passenger side door and reached in through the open window to fetch her cell phone. 

She dialed the number to her house and waited for her mother or father to pick up. She angrily tapped her foot on the pavement and hoped someone would be home. The scorching heat burned down on her bare arms and neck. Mary Alice finally glanced down at her phone and realized she had no service. 

“This is ridiculous,” she grumbled and headed down the dirt road to find help.

A few steps and half a minute later she heard the whistle of a train far off in the distance. As it came closer she thought how lonely that whistle can sound in the middle of nowhere. As the train drew closer and closer Mary Alice thought to herself that there were no train tracks near the old Biloxi country road. 

And then she saw it. Flying down a stretch of tracks Mary Alice had never noticed until that instant, the large, black freight train blew its horn and she watched as it raced past her in the direction of her car. She turned around and watched it. She had never seen a train in these parts before. It troubled her deeply. 

As she faced towards her car she saw a silver light of something behind her car. She was perplexed wondering what she kept seeing. As she went to turn around and head for help she heard an awful screeching noise, a noise of metal on metal or train on track. There was a crash, pieces were torn apart as more metal screeched and groaned.

This was followed by the most frightful scream Mary Alice had ever heard. A high pitched voice was pleading for help. Horror-stricken Mary Alice began running towards the apparent train wreck. When she reached her Volkswagen she froze in mid-stride. 

There in the middle of the road was a young girl. Mary Alice closed her eyes not wanting to believe what was before her. She gasped as a tiny, cold hand clutched onto her forearm. 

The girl, no older than six or seven, was standing there slowly motioning with her hand for Mary Alice to come. She walked up to the girl and asked, “Are you lost?”

The little girl said nothing and so Mary Alice asked again, “Are you okay?” When the girl refused to acknowledge her question and her presence, Mary Alice looked down at the girl’s appearance. 

The little girl was bloodied from head to foot. Her yellow jumper was torn in many places and her feet were bare. Her lips were cracked and swollen as were the corners of her eyes. Mary Alice was sure the child’s hair was red, but one could no longer tell through all the tangles and dirt that was caked in.

Suddenly the child looked up from her trance and pointed to a wooded area off the road. Fearful, yet determined, Mary Alice walked over to the area. She was curious about this mute being and afraid of the awful noise she had heard. 

And then she saw it. 

A yellow school bus had been smashed in its side. She turned around to find that the girl was no longer there. Mary Alice began to panic. Horror gripped her body and she carefully, slowly made her way over to the bus. She had to jump on the side that was smashed hanging on to the bus which was leaning into a ditch of some sort. 

“Oh, no! Bodies!” Mary Alice cried out. She peeked her head up to the window and quickly ducked it back down.

There were children in there. Or they once were children. Decaying and rotten bodies lined the seats of the school bus. Mary Alice could see the book bags and lunch boxes that had been strewn about the cabin, probably from the crash. She reached back up to get one more look. The bodies were in odd positions, arms and feet in unnatural positions. Their faces were facing up and around and their eyes, white and frightened, were wide open. 

But one seat had no child. Mary Alice found this strange and she began to count the children and the book bags. 

“Twenty-nine boys and girls, but there are thirty bags!” Mary Alice was confused. She hopped down from the bus and went over to the side where the driver was. 

The poor old woman had crumpled in her seat. Her brown, wiry hair was plastered on her forehead and her eyes, like the children’s, were wide open. But Mary Alice noticed how red they were, bloodshot and scary. Mary Alice shivered and stepped away from the bus. 

She had no idea how long the bus had been like that, but it appeared that they had suffocated. She looked back at the windows and smashed door. Not a single window was broken, but yet no one had opened them for fresh air. 

A piercing whistle sounded again, and Mary Alice was reminded of the screeching noise. She looked around frantically for the freight train, but it was nowhere in sight.

Then the little girl appeared before her and said nothing, only pointing to the left. Mary Alice looked across the road into the field of grass. And she found a small blue house hidden in the overgrowth. Mary Alice ran towards it abandoning all reason that she had never seen the house before. 

The house was very old and the blue paint was chipping away. More weeds and wild sunflowers grew up around the base of the house. Mary Alice approached the bottom step to the porch. It looked like it was ready to collapse, sagging low to the ground. She climbed up the stairs each one squeaking and growling under her weight. She knocked on the door silently praying that whomever was inside would be able to help her figure out the mystery of the bus.

The door swung open and a plump elderly lady stepped out. “Yes? Can I help you?”

Mary Alice frantically tried to tell this woman what see had seen, but she stuttered over her words and they came out in a mumble. “A-a-a bus with ch-ch-children and the b-b-bus driver….”

The old woman smiled at her and brought a bottle to her lips and titled her head back to drink the liquid. Mary Alice was afraid. The woman lowered the bottle and she said, “I’d never seen such a hot day. They were all there, all thirty, but she got away.”

Mary Alice stood there unsure of what this madwoman was saying. She noticed how red the woman’s eyes were from her obvious drunken state. Her clothes were hanging loosely from her body and her brown hair was put up in a messy bun.

_Red eyes._ Mary Alice looked back into the woman’s eyes and she realized the woman looked exactly like the bus driver. 

It only took Mary Alice a matter of seconds before she was off that porch and running back to her car. Flat tire be damned! She jumped over the weeds and made it to her car. She threw open the door and jumped in. She cranked up the engine and backed over the hole. She saw the smashed bus and she could make out a small hole where it had been smashed. Someone had escaped.

Mary Alice could hear children laughing and talking in the distance. She looked for the bus, but it was gone, replaced by a shiny railroad track. A horn and whistle sounded simultaneously and she watched a yellow school bus roll down the country, dirt road. Mary Alice pulled her car off the road into the grass and watched as the school bus went past her. She could see the children and the bus driver. Suddenly, the bus hit the same pothole and swerved off the road. Crashing into the ditch and sliding onto the railroad track, Mary Alice looked on in terror as the freight train made its way down the track. 

Before Mary Alice could close her eyes and turn away she caught sight of the school bus and the small child trying to climb out of it. Mary Alice screamed and ran towards the bus. The train whistle rang out again and the piercing scream of metal and shrieks filled Mary Alice’s ears. 

She jumped back to the road shutting her eyes to shut out the gruesome scene before her. Everything went deathly silent, no noise of machine or nature. A cool hand seemed to release Mary Alice’s arm and she slowly opened her eyes. 

As if she had only blinked, she saw the same little girl standing in the middle of the road. Her Volkswagen sat in the same spot she had left it in and the grey clouds were rolling in dangerously overhead.

The little girl waved and the wind swept her up into the air, vanishing out of thin air. Mary Alice breathed out and in, trying to calm her nerves. She raced to where she thought the bus had been, but found nothing. She raced into the wild grass in search of the blue house, but it was gone. 

Fiercely the rain began to pelt against her back and prickle her face. Mary Alice turned around, defeated, and made her way back to her car. Sitting down in the now soaked Volkswagen she pondered what she had seen. She shook off the rain from her hair and looked down at her shirt. She noticed a small red handprint on her forearm. Mary Alice thought to herself, _“Was it real? Was I dreaming? Or was it a vision of something to come?”_


End file.
